


Summoning Love

by bleebug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, demon!killian, witch!emma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/pseuds/bleebug
Summary: Emma Swan, disaster witch, accidentally summons a demon straight from hell. Luckily for her and unfortunately for him, the little spell comes with an interesting provision. (Story written for CSSNS in three parts, all glimpses into the AU rather than complete chapters.)





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is technically "unfinished" in that it isn't a full story; just three scenes, essentially. It is finished in the sense that these are the only parts that will be done for this AU, so please know that going in. There is accompanying NSFW artwork for parts two and three that are linked at the end of the chapters.

“ _Just a simple spirit summoning spell_ ,” Emma whispered under her breath, mockingly, repeating the same words she’d spoken to herself earlier. “ _Why ask for help when I can totally do it all by myself_? Emma, you idiot. You goddamned moron.”

She splashed water on her face and slapped her cheeks a couple of times, then stared at her reflection in the mirror. Oh, she was in trouble. So much trouble.

As it turned out, Emma had failed to read quite a bit of fine print. Apparently you could do everything right, every stroke of chalk on the floor perfectly aligned, every word spoken without error, the planet and moon and stars situated just right, but if the spirit you were searching for wasn’t there? Surprise, you’ve just opened the door for something  _else_  to fall through.

After turning off the faucet and patting her face dry, she took a deep breath and left the safety of her bathroom. It was probably pointless to try and sneak her way back down the hall, but she tiptoed anyway on instinct. Peeking around the corner into her living area, she gulped, feeling great dismay and maybe a twinge of fear when she found the demon she’d accidentally summoned still sitting dutifully on her futon, where she’d asked him to stay.

He was so… odd looking. Almost human, but not quite. The giveaways were his horns, one full and sturdy, curling around his head and then pointing up at the tip, and the other broken off a few inches from his skull; his red-tinged skin, fading to deeper crimson down his arms and legs; and his eyes – blue irises, but black where they should be white around. Otherwise, he could have been normal, handsome even, with a sharp jawline and dark hair and, in all honesty, a very well built form. And, well, she could practically see  _all_  of him; he wore nothing but a tiny black leather loincloth, some gaudy jewelry, and a brace on his left arm leading down to a shiny, sharp hook that took the place of a missing hand.

He casually raised a brow as he caught sight of her, and she tried to settle her nerves before stepping into her living room.

“So…” She crossed her arms over her chest, more out of defensiveness than anything else.

“You’re not sending me back,” he said – or rather, demanded.

“And why not?” She could play confident, too, no matter how much she was freaking out on the inside. God, she didn’t even know how to send him back to Hell, but it wasn’t like she was going to tell  _him_  that. “It’s where you’re supposed to be, away from… people. Where you can’t create problems.”

A rumbly noise came from deep in his chest. Was that a  _growl_? “I’m not an idiot. I won’t cause a panic. Just get whatever it is you want from me, set me free, and I’ll leave the city and find somewhere more suitable to stay, with fewer humans around. Preferably none. Deal?”

Emma froze, eyebrows pinched and lips parted.

_Set him free?_

“Whatever it is… I want from you…” She said it slowly, repeating his words, unsure if she heard him right.

He rolled his eyes and leaned back, tossing an arm over the back of the futon and lifting one leg to cross an ankle over his knee. She wanted to avert her eyes; he was practically flashing the goods like it was no biggie!

“Yeah, what is it? You want me to kill someone for you? Curse someone? Torture them?” Tilting his head, he scanned her slowly from head to toe – all five foot five of her in a t-shirt and yoga pants, already blushing from seeing a little more than she bargained for – then his lips curled up into a sinful grin. “Or, perhaps you were looking for a more  _sensual_  kind of satisfaction.”

She squeaked a half-offended, half-embarrassed, “ _What? No_!” before she could stop herself, and the small gleam of wicked excitement in his features melted away in favor of disappointment and boredom.

“Pity. Haven’t had a decent fuck in eons.” He leaned forward and whispered, almost conspiratorially, “Demon wenches are about as soft and fuckable as a bag full of razor blades.”

Emma grimaced in disgust.

“File that under things I didn’t need to hear, like, ever.”

He laughed heartily as he settled back against the futon, and Emma took note of his perfectly straight row of white teeth, in particular his sharp, slightly long canines. If it weren’t for the pair of matching dimples on either of his cheeks, those teeth would’ve made him seem much more sinister.

“Oh, lass, don’t tell me you’re a prude.”

“A prude? I’m not a…” Oh, no, she was  _not_  going to argue with a  _demon_  about this. “ _Ugh_. Whatever. Not the point.”

That insufferable grin of his was back, one thick eyebrow mischievously quirked up on his forehead. If she weren’t positive he had the power to rip her limb from limb with ease, she might have considered smacking that look right off his dumb demon face.

“The  _point_  is,” she continued, cheeks reddening when her voice came out a bit higher in pitch than she meant it to, “that you… you have to do something for me…?”

“Aye, we’ve established that.” He idly ran his thumb along the tips of his fingers. “It would certainly be helpful to know what exactly it is that I must do.”

“That you…  _must_  do.” This was all very confusing, but if she was understanding what she thought she was understanding, then this demon maybe, possibly, had to… do whatever she asked? Like a genie or something? Three wishes?

Was that a thing?

“You know, I’m afraid I’m losing my patience, love. Let’s get on with it. I’ll grant you one task, you’ll release me, and we’ll go our separate ways.”

She narrowed her eyes. Didn’t he seem a tad flippant? Earlier he’d said, ‘ _You’re not sending me back_ ,’ as in, back to Hell. And now he’d practically assumed she would ‘release him’ and let him out into the world? A demon? What kind of chaos could he cause?

Something told her that she held all the cards in this scenario.

“Tell me something, Demon.”

“It’s Killian.”

‘ _Killian_ ,’ really? Shouldn’t he have had a less human-sounding name? Something hard to pronounce with at least two apostrophes, and definitely a Z and three G’s somewhere?

“Okay. Killian, then. Are you, like, under my control? Or something?”

His wide-eyed expression spoke volumes. Though he tried to cover up his immediate reaction with a defiant, brave look, Emma wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it.

“Your control? Pff. It’s called a fair trade, love. You get me out of Hell, I do something for you, and that’s it. Transaction complete. Favor repaid.”

“And then I… release you.”

“Precisely.”

She stroked her chin thoughtfully.

“Hmm. And what if I… didn’t release you?”


	2. Let Loose

Emma took a deep breath, looking over her work again for the thousandth time. She’d spent a good deal of time and money perfecting the potion, dropped exactly three drops on the chalk to enchant it, and had practically created a mathematical masterpiece with the symbol she’d drawn on her hardwood floor. Even the most expert witch wouldn’t be able to find fault in it.

This was it. Now or never.

She padded down the hall and peeked into the living room, where Killian was lying across the futon, watching one of his soaps. His brace and hook were on the end table and he was wearing his slouchy house pants—no shirt, of course. If she hadn’t seen him in button-ups and jackets on the occasions he magically donned his human disguise to leave her apartment, she’d wonder if he even knew what a shirt was to begin with. But… it was kind of nice, seeing how comfortable he was in her space.

“Killian?” He paused the TV and tilted his head toward her expectantly. “Uh, I need you.”

“Oh you  _do_ , do you?” he crooned, grinning. “Changed your mind about that  _thing_?”

She crossed her arms, frowning. In truth, she was too nervous to bother arguing with his teasing, and after a beat, he seemed to pick up on that, his features growing stiff and concerned. He stood and straightened, making his way over to her. Before he got too close, she turned and walked down the hall back to her room, where he followed.

The moment he saw her efforts, he froze. She watched the betrayal creep into his expression, the hurt revealing itself in the flare of his nostrils.

“You’re sending me back?  _Why_? Why now?”

“ _No_ , no, I’m not,” she argued.

“Don’t take me for a fool. I’ve seen that mark hundreds of times over, and on the other side is  _fire_  and  _brimstone_.”

“No, I know,  _I know_ , but I swear this is not that. That’s not what I’m doing. I’m… Killian, I’m setting you free.”

His jaw clicked shut, the muscles tensing beneath his skin.

“You expect me to believe-“

“Yes. I do.” She placed both hands on his cheeks, making him look her in the eyes. “Listen, I know I’m not the best with magic. I know I mess up a lot. But I’ve done the research extensively on this. The untethering spell is nearly  _identical_  to the one that opens a portal to send you to Hell. There are really only two differences; the incantation, and… your faith.”

“My faith,” he said dully, skepticism still pinching his brow. Her palms smoothed down his neck, and his face relaxed just a smidgen. “Emma, I’m a demon. Faith isn’t in our nature.”

“Not faith in any god, Killian, faith in  _me_. Trust. I need your trust. Because the spell requires that you go  _willingly_  into the center of the circle. I can’t force you.”

He glanced past her to the chalk marks on the floor, stricken.

“You’re telling me that I have to face the possibility of returning to that wretched place, my worst fear, and that I must do it of my own accord… all on the small hope you’re telling me the truth and will really, honestly release me, something I’ve desired for my entire existence and have been tricked out of  _over and over_?”

Emma’s heart stuttered, her face falling as she realized just how crazy a thing it was to ask of him. Of course he couldn’t trust her—he couldn’t trust  _anyone_ , not after being used so many times before. Still, she’d hoped… well, it didn’t matter what she’d hoped. It didn’t matter what she’d thought there was growing between them, absurd as it seemed.

“You’re right,” she said, sighing, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll… I’ll figure something out, some other way to do this. Until then, I guess-“

Before she could finish, he pushed past her, and she watched in silent awe as he stepped directly into the center of the symbol. He looked down at his feet, surrounded by dreadfully familiar geometric patterns, then up at her.

And there it was, in the calmness in his eyes and the way his shoulders relaxed—trust. He trusted her.

She smiled, just briefly, and took her place in front of him outside the circle, pulling the incantation from her pocket. Though she’d read it a thousand times, enough to quote it by heart, she still felt safer reading directly from the page. Besides, it was a little difficult to look him in the eyes; his gaze was too curious and intense, and she didn’t want to misinterpret that look as something more. It would be wishful thinking on her part, wouldn’t it?

As she began reading, the foreign words only familiar on her tongue after days upon weeks of practice recitations, the symbol glowed brightly and Killian hissed. She nearly stopped, glancing up and believing she’d somehow hurt him. Instead, she saw the first sign the spell was working. Invisible markers of his servitude, of his lifelong captivity, slowly took form in the shape of ethereal chains. Shackles weighed him down, making him drop to his knees, his wrists drawn to the floor. The only chain that tied him to her was the one around his neck; the rest tied him to Hell.

She dropped the scroll with the incantation but kept speaking, not willing to stop mid-way lest the spell be incomplete. But there was something off about looking down at him, even with the trust still evident in his eyes. It felt unequal. So she, too, crouched down, resting her knees on the hardwood in front of her mattress.

The final words were spoken and the chains that bound him shattered and disappeared, the chalk on the floor fading, and it suddenly became eerily silent.

Killian looked over himself where the chains had been, getting a feel for the difference now, his brow wrinkled. Emma licked her lips nervously, wondering if it had truly worked as it should have, if she’d done everything right.

“That… that’s it, I think. I mean, I hope-“

All in a flash, he was right there, crossing the space between them, kissing her so deeply that she could barely hold herself up. She didn’t even have time to process it, what it meant. Just as quickly, he broke away, his eyes alit with crazed excitement, practically shaking with energy.

“Tell me to do something.”

“I… what?” She blinked, surprised and still catching her breath.

“Give me an order. Anything.”

It hit her then, that this may well be the first time in his life that he wouldn’t be under someone’s control, whether it be another human’s or demon’s or the Devil himself. He wanted to know it was real.

She stared at his lips, feeling herself burn inside.

“Don’t kiss me,” she whispered, then met his gaze.

His eyes grew softer, and his nose bumped against hers as his hand found its way into her hair, his fingers twisting around and tangling in her loose strands.

“I think… I’ll do as I please,” he said.

When his lips touched hers again, she shut her eyes and let herself fall into it.

This wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her. He was charming and persuasive and she was more into him than she’d liked to admit, so there had been moments of weakness. But it had never been like this; with gentleness and depth, passion and emotion. It had never felt quite this way before.

This was what it was like when there was no power disparity. This is what it was like when it was just them, no walls, no question of intent or consent, no moral ambiguity.

This was the first time she really allowed herself to kiss him back. And she  _did_ , with all she had, her hands grasping his arms, kneading his muscles, winding around his neck to draw him in further as she opened her mouth and tasted him. The more she tried to consume him, the more urgent his own desire appeared. His hand tugged at her shirt and they broke from the kiss just long enough for him to peel it up over her arms and head. Not a moment later, her bra was unclasped and she gasped against his lips.

Though she’d wondered what would happen following the untethering spell, she hadn’t imagined it would lead to  _this_. But maybe it shouldn’t have been so surprising. Maybe all this time he’d felt it too—the tension between them winding up like a coil, tighter and tighter, every day bringing more to contemplate and overanalyze and  _want_. And this,  _this_ , was the moment it snapped.

One of his sturdy arms wrapped around her waist and with practically no effort at all, he lifted her and she found herself a second later lying back on her bed, Killian above her, his body molded to hers from chest to hip, his forearms holding the bulk of his weight on either side of her.

She gripped at his sides, urging him to move against her. Already, she could feel him against her stomach through his pants. Her fingers slid over his back and down, feeling his taut muscles and the bumps and dips of the scars that crisscrossed on his skin, before reaching his waistband.

“Pants,” she murmured, and he gently nipped at her lower lip before unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans. With his hand pulling on her left side and hers pulling on her right, they dragged her pants and underwear off together. Not a moment later, he’d divested himself of his own, and she had no time at all to look and appreciate his body; he was kissing her again, touching her, his hand groping at one of her breasts and squeezing as he sensuously rolled his hips against hers.

She couldn’t take it, the build-up, the anticipation. She just  _needed_ , so she slid a hand between their bodies, curled her fingers around him, tilted her hips up, and Killian gladly let her guide him where she wanted.

_Oh_ , she thought, inhaling sharply at the first intrusion. There were a few seconds of discomfort from their lack of preparation, as well as his rather generous size. Killian didn’t move, just released a shaky breath and let her adjust, softly kissing her cheek while he waited.

“All right, love?”

She hadn’t even realized she’d shut her eyes, but when she opened them, there he was, staring down at her with that indescribably intense look; the one that felt too much, made her feel weak in the knees and everywhere else, the one that seemed to say,  _You mean more to me than you know_.

In true Emma fashion, even now she wondered if she was misreading things. Even now, physically connected and still aching for more of him, she couldn’t help but feel like she had to lighten things up, ease the seriousness of the moment.

“I suppose I’ll be going to Hell someday,” she joked, laughing breathlessly. “Sinning with a demon.”

But he didn’t laugh, and didn’t leave her to wonder if she’d offended him, either.

“No, Emma,” he said softly, brushing his thumb under her chin. “I know what sin is better than most. Done my fair share of it. I know what it looks like, what it feels like. And this?” He shook his head, and his hand slid down from her neck, mapping the dips and curves of her body, making her eyelids flutter, until his thumb came to rest in the crease of her hip. “This isn’t that. It’s… It’s…”

He paused, maybe searching for the right word, maybe already aware of the word but unsure if she could handle it said aloud.

She wasn’t sure she could either.

So she simply said, “I know,” and brushed her fingertips across the prickly hair on his jaw, before drawing him back down for a heady kiss and shifting her hips in an invitation to move.

//

//

After the high of amazing sex began to ebb and her heartbeat and breath finally returned to normal, Emma’s mind began to wander. Lying tucked into his side, her head and palm resting on his chest, she thought about what came next. Obviously the dynamic of their relationship had changed, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust the permanency of it. Oh, she wanted to; being like this felt real and natural. But there was that little niggling thought in the back of her mind, her ever-present doubts whispering the inevitability of their separation.

“What do you suppose you’ll do now?” she asked, hoping not to let the insecurity she felt reveal itself in her voice.

“Mm?” He sounded as if she’d woken him, or perhaps pulled him from his own deep thoughts. His fingers traced indiscernible patterns against her lower back. “What I’ll do?”

“Now that you’re free,” she clarified.

“Oh…”

She recalled conversations they’d had months prior, and how often he’d expressed his desire to live in isolation, find a little spot somewhere with no one around, somewhere far from the bustle of human activity. Maybe he still wanted that.

“Gonna find a deserted island and be a hermit? Go off on your own?”

Though she knew she wasn’t exactly being subtle, she couldn’t help but fish for answers—reassurance, more like. It would crush her to know she’d gained his trust but not enough affection to convince him to stay.

“I did say I’d do that, didn’t I?” he mused.

“A few times.”

“Hm…” The long paused that followed was agony. She could feel her pulse begin to pick up again, this time not from pleasure but anxiety. When he kissed the top of her head, just a brief press of his lips to her mess of hair, she shut her eyes. “Well. Circumstances as they are… I think I’ve reconsidered.”

“Oh?” Her eyelids fluttered open and she tilted her head up to look at him.

He smiled crookedly, almost sleepily, eyes soft and content.

“I can’t speak of my feelings of other humans, but I am rather fond of one in particular. It would be an awful pity if I had to give her up.”

Feeling butterflies in her stomach and warmth in her cheeks, she smiled back.

“I can’t imagine she’d want to give you up either.”

“Do you think she’d mind if I stayed? And perhaps kissed and held her from time to time?”

She reached up, winding her fingers around his broken horn and tugging him towards her as she shifted and leaned up, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss.

“I have a feeling she’d like that very much.”

//

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//

//

[[Artwork (NSFW)]](https://bleebug.tumblr.com/post/176954742851/cs-au-let-loose-witchemma-and-demonkillian)


	3. Demon Distractions

Emma nibbled her lip in a strange mix of dismay and arousal. The words on the pages were beginning to blur together, she’d been staring at them so long. It was hard juggling university classes  _and_  her magic apprenticeship, but with the most clingy demon in existence trying to distract her at all costs, it was impossible to get anything done. Or at least anything done  _right,_ even if he was giving her free tutoring, the only instruction she really had outside of Ingrid’s babying and Regina’s do-first-ask-questions-never technique.

She could already tell she’d messed up somewhere.

“Killian?”

His lips didn’t move from her shoulder as he mumbled a soft, “Mm, yes love?”

The liquid in the small caldron on her hotplate was bubbling up nicely, but it was a weird, icky shade of orange. And it smelled off––not  _bad_ ; just not quite as it should, if the footnotes were to be believed.

“Why isn’t the potion turning green. It should be green, right?”

With his hook gently scraping against her arm and his fingertips rising up beneath her shirt, he glanced over her shoulder.

“What kind of water did you use? Tap?”

“I’m not an idiot. It’s from a nymph’s spring, like the book says.”

“And goat’s tears? Not something ridiculous like… a horse’s or… a dog’s?”

Emma shot him a piercing look over her shoulder and he just chuckled and kissed her cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth in the valley between her breasts. As if she weren’t already bothered enough. She felt warm all the way to her toes.

“Forgive me, but you  _do_  have a tendency to substitute rather important ingredients.”

He had her there. In all fairness, high quality ingredients were stupid expensive, and if a substitute got the job done, what was the harm, really?

( _What’s the harm?_  she internally scolded herself.  _The harm is you, two years younger, a novice witch with no formal training attempting to call forth a spirit or two from the great beyond, and then somehow ending up summoning a demon––from actual Hell––instead. A demon who invades your apartment and privacy, who is dumb and charming, and who is now… your boyfriend, apparently._

So… really no harm at all, she supposed, in the end.)

“Is it the fairy dust?” she asked softly, almost to herself. Killian froze behind her and she turned in his arms, confused. When she saw the exasperation in the set of his brows, she crossed her arms defensively. “What? _”_

“Darling. Sweetheart. Dearest.”

“ _What.”_

“What in seven hells possessed you to substitute pixie dust with fairy dust?”

She frowned. “It’s… it’s dust! Pixies, fairies––what’s the difference?”

“Oh, love,” he sighed, smiling. She had half a mind to pinch him for the pitying look in his eyes, but damn it, that hand of his was now cupping her breast, reminding her with a brush of his fingernail that her nipples were already pebbled in arousal. Oh, she hated him. “I’m going to kiss you now, but don’t for one second think that it’s because I find you to be an immensely cute disaster.”

“It’s obviously not. It’s because you’re constantly horny and can’t let me get anything done.” Her fingers curled tightly over her notebook as he leaned in, bumping their noses together.

“Yes, that’s precisely it,” he said, grinning and giving her tit a squeeze before kissing her thoroughly.

Well, what the hell; if studying was making her eyes cross anyway, she may as well give in. ‘All work, no play,’ and all that jazz.

//

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//

//

[[Artwork]](https://bleebug.tumblr.com/post/176233610701/cs-au-demon-distraction-modern-disaster)


End file.
